Scars & Burns
by Fangirl Francesca
Summary: Five times Blaine Anderson self harmed and one time he didn't. TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM. Rated T for mature themes.
1. Part 1

**TRIGGER WARNING.**

**I cannot stress that enough. Self-harm IS involved and I don't want to push anyone over the edge. As someone with firsthand experience on the subject, I will be describing it how I feel is accurate and appropriate. **

**Obligatory disclaimer, I don't own Glee, yadayadayada.**

Part 1

He knew it was cliché to say cutting was the only thing that made him feel better, but it was true. Blaine Anderson had been self-harming on and off since he was 14, for multiple reasons. The bullies, his parents, and stress all contributed to his harmful behaviors.

He wasn't suicidal. He didn't want to die, necessarily. He could go months on end without picking up a razor blade or lighter. Sure, he thought about it every day, but he distracted himself with other things, like boxing or glee club or being with Kurt or his other friends.

Sometimes, however, he _really needed to._

One of those times came in December of his junior year. There had been a blizzard, knocking out power lines all over Westerville and Lima. McKinley had cancelled classes for three days, leaving Blaine at home with his parents.

Of course it only took about 17 minutes for the three of them to start shouting at each other.

The fight went on for nearly two hours. Back and forth, about Blaine's future. God, he hated thinking about the future because he knew what he wanted and at the same time didn't know what he wanted.

He wanted Kurt to be there and involved in his life always. He wanted to maybe be a musician, teacher, or possibly even a lawyer. He didn't however want to be a doctor. He believed doctors did great work-just not great work he would ever contribute to. He also did not like the idea of being a banker, which was his father's next choice for him. Blaine was uncomfortable about money. He had been incredibly wealthy his whole life, and had always gotten whatever he needed or wanted. At Dalton it was easier to be at terms with, many boys there came from money. At McKinley, though, many families were middle or lower class. It was especially hard to see one of his best friends, Sam, struggle with being homeless when Blaine had so much to give. He had offered Sam money, but the boy was too proud to take it.

So they argued and they argued. Blaine's father asked when he was going to get over this _phase_ he was in, to which Blaine had asked, what phase?

The-being-in-a-relationship-with-a-boy phase.

That one.

That was the final straw for Blaine, who ran up to his room and slammed the door. He called Cooper, he didn't pick up. Figures, when he needed him he was never around. He called Kurt next, but it went straight to voicemail. Sadly, even with their family's generator, his boyfriend was having trouble keeping his phone charged.

Blaine went to his bathroom to splash cold water on his face to calm down, but something caught his eye. A package of razorblades his mother had picked up at the store for him.

It had been awhile since he had done _the bad thing._

Kurt didn't know about Blaine's habit. Nobody did, except for Wes, David, Jeff, and Nick, and they were sworn to secrecy. Blaine was pretty sure Cooper had guessed a few years ago what was going on, but he hadn't said anything. If Blaine cut his wrists, which he did not, Kurt would have seen by now. But Blaine wanted to keep this a secret, so he had always cut the top of his arms. Even if he was wearing a t-shirt, the horizontal scars couldn't be seen, and when he and Kurt were together and unclothed, he was very careful about the angles at which he let his boyfriend see him.

He wasn't sure how he ended up with one of the blades in his hand, but he did. He locked the door and pulled his sweatshirt over his head, throwing it carelessly on the floor. He leaned in close to the mirror, examining his face. Pale and sweaty, a dead look in his usually bright, hazel eyes.

He shouldn't have but he did. He did and it worked.

When he was finished, he pressed a washcloth to his upper left arm and climbed into the shower. He went into a trance, forgetting where he was or what he was supposed to be doing it, and did not come back to reality until his mother banged on the bathroom door.

"Blaine! Get out of the shower, you're using all the hot water!" He jerked his head up and automatically turned the faucet so the stream of water stopped coming. The wash cloth had fallen off, and red swirled with the shampoo at the bottom of the drain.

"Sorry mom! I'll be done in a second, I swear." He shouted back. He swore he heard her mumble something before her footsteps faded away, but he couldn't be sure. He rinsed the tub out, bandaged his arm with gauze from the first aid kit he kept in the medicine cabinet, and left the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

Turning up the radio, he pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants, his old Dalton hoodie, and his glasses because he didn't feel like putting his contacts back in. He grabbed his phone and flopped back on his bed, flinching slightly as he landed on his "sore" arm. The inbox showed two texts- One from Cooper and one from Kurt. He sucked in a breath and read Cooper's first.

**Sorry, baby brother. I was shooting a new commercial ;) Soon it'll be movies. Anyway, what's up?**

Blaine sighed. It wouldn't have been hard to have just sent "Sorry, I was busy, what do you need?" but of course Cooper had to give him details on his actor lifestyle. He quickly responded that he was fine and just bored. Then he read Kurt's.

**Hey, Blaine(: I was watching a movie, thank god for the generator. Even though Finn didn't stop talking through the whole thing...Did you need me?**

Kurt's text made him smile. Even at his worst, Kurt never failed to make him feel even the tiniest bit better…even if it was too late.


	2. Part 2

**:O holy crap. This has been up for barely 24 hours and every time I check my email I have new messages saying this story has been added to an alert list, or I've been added to an alert list, or this has been favorited. Can I just say, y'all are awesome! Now, how about some reviews…;)**

**Also – The days where Blaine self-harms aren't necessarily in chronological order. They are all days during his junior year, but while first part took place in December, this takes place during sectionals. Which was in December, but earlier. I know I had said "It had been awhile since he'd done the bad thing" but ignore that. I know I should have thought out what I was going to do before hand, but…:P Sorry for any confusion. **

Part 2

God damn them. Damn them all to hell. Blaine was trying, for Christ's sake! And yet they were still being cold and unwelcoming towards him. It was just a week before sectionals, and Sam-frickin-Evans had come to town. Yes, Sam and him had been friends, but after he moved to Kentucky or wherever, they lost touch. Now he was back, and bringing his male stripper moves into glee club.

There had been a spat during dance rehearsal. Blaine wasn't happy about it and he knew the other New Directions weren't either. He had spent a long time boxing when he got home from school, but it didn't bring him the satisfaction it usually did.

Trouty mouth wasn't his only problem. Finn Hudson wasn't helping, either. The guy was pissed as shit at him, and Blaine had _no idea why. _He played video games with Finn, chatted with him and even had awkward conversations about their relationships. He wanted to like his boyfriend's step brother, and he thought he was making an amazing effort, but Finn was always rude towards him during glee. So he was just going to stop talking to him, because he deserved more than this bullshit. Kurt would be confused- But he'd find a way to explain.

For the past hour, Blaine had unsuccessfully been attempting to do his history homework, but there was one thing on his mind.

The razor blades he knew he had below the sink in his bathroom.

Heaving himself off his bed, he slowly walked into the tiled room, the marble feeling like ice on his bare feet.

15 minutes later he stood against the wall, tears rolling down his face, landing on his bare chest. He was pathetic. He hadn't even doneanything yet, and he was crying. He raised his hand, the thin, metal blade held between his fingers.

The feeling of relief was instant. The pinching and burning cut through all other emotion, clearing his head. He let out a long breath.

Cuts were made for everyone causing him pain. Sam, Finn, his parents…In the end there were six slender, scarlet cuts.

Wasting no time, he pressed a wad of toilet paper to his arm. When the bleeding finally stopped, he stuck a few band aids over the cuts. He knew they weren't going to do much, but he probably wouldn't get an infection. At least, that's what he told himself. In reality, he didn't want to spend too much time looking at his scars. He would just end up thinking of the people he had made them to represent, which would make him remember the bad memories all over again.

He would never do this again, Blaine promised himself. He knew it was a lie, but he would face his guilt next time.

** So this ended up shorter than I expected, but I kinda like where I ended it…I've planned out the next three parts, and then there will be one more part to go(: I'm hoping to work on this every day, so fingers crossed I can update every day/every other day.**

**Reviews greatly appreciated but of course, you don't have to. **

**Until next time, **

**Frankie**

**P.S anyone want to follow me on tumblr! My URL is blaire-anderson . **


	3. Part 3

**So here's my change to give a little PSA. If you or someone you know is cutting, burning, suffering from an eating disorder, suicidal, or has any other harmful behavior, **_**please get them/yourself help. **_**I cannot stress this enough. And if you need to talk to anyone, you can message me on here or on my tumblr. There's a link on my profile. **

**Obligatory disclaimer. **

Part 3

Blaine Anderson was having a terrible day.

He knew it was going to suck the minute he woke up. He figured he must be falling back into his depression, he had started to suspect that recently. The warning signs to him were:

Being exhausted, to the point where he was falling asleep in class, all the time.

No motivation to do anything.

The smallest things pissed him off.

Nothing made him happy, not even Kurt.

It worried him, and Blaine knew he should tell someone. Who, though? His parents would call him a drama queen or attention seeker. If he called Cooper, Cooper would just start talking about himself and they would never get to talking about Blaine. There weren't any teachers he felt particularly comfortable with, and Kurt…Kurt wouldn't get it. At least that's what he told himself.

He couldn't take this anymore. The school work, berating parents, and fickle friends were just too much.

When he got home from school, he threw his bag on the floor and raced up to his room, throwing open the bathroom door and searching frantically for a razor blood. To his shock, he was out—he must have used his last blade to actually shave. Blaine cursed loudly and kicked the tub, gasping at the pain.

He ran back down the stairs to the kitchen, throwing open the drawers. Butter knives were not going to do what he needed. He knew that and was not stupid enough to try.

Breathing heavily, Blaine looked around. In two minutes he had somehow managed to trash the whole kitchen. How was there nothing sharp enough? He had just starting to think his efforts were hopeless when he noticed a glass sitting upside down on the drying rack. Blaine's eyes widened as he got an idea. Taking the glass, he went back upstairs to his room. He put the glass in a shoe box, wrapped his hand in a dish table, and punched the glass as hard as he could. It shattered, the pieces falling to the bottom of the box. He picked a large piece, sat on the floor, and did the deed.

Blood was everywhere. On his shirt, his pants, the carpet….Blaine didn't even remember doing the damage to cause the much blood. He stripped, throwing his clothes in the washing machine and scrubbed his carpet with a sponge and cub soda.

By the time his parents were home from work, Blaine had removed all evidence. His arm was bandaged and hidden under a cardigan. He had shifted his furniture slightly to cover the stain on the carper and he had done his laundry.

The shoe box, filled with shards of glass and a dishtowel had been taped up and hidden in the farthest corner of Blaine's closet. Nobody would ever notice it there, and in due time he would forget it even existed.

**I tried doing angsty!Blaine, and I just couldn't get angsty enough. Ah well, I'm half way through this! What do you guys think?**


	4. Part 4

**Hey guys. Sorry that it's been a few days, some stuff is going on…BUT ANYWAY. Here it is, part 4! Also, happy mother's day to all the mommies out there! **

Part 4

Blaine Anderson crashed through the bathroom door, slamming against the cool tiled wall. He tried to take a breath, but it stuck in his throat. Staggering over to the sinks, he glanced at the stalls, which all appeared to be empty. He couldn't do this. Not now, and not here. But he was so _overwhelmed _he didn't know what to do.

He could go see . Or the glee kids. Kurt would ditch class for him- But he shouldn't have to. He'd take care of this by himself. He didn't need anyone else.

Grabbing his bag, he turned it upside down, sending his stuff all over the floor. Papers floated to the slightly sticky linoleum, a notebook splashed into a puddle of soap, and pencils and pens rolled away. He smashed a plastic, blue, ball point pen with his foot and picked up the sharp shards of plastic.

Pressing one into his fore arm, he gritted his teeth and dragged, back and force. First it was just long, pink scratches. The longer he stood there and the harder he pressed, the more blood started to seep out of his skin, dripping in the sink.

How long he stood there, he didn't know. But the bell rang and he cursed through his teeth. People would come into the bathroom soon to empty their bladders before their next class.

Carefully he wrapped the pen pieces in a sheet of paper towel and tossed it into the trash can. He washed off his arm, gaining control of his breathing. Blaine dried his eyes with his sleeve. Anyone could tell they were rimmed with red, but he would tell them he got some chemicals on his hands during chem and then wiped his eyes. That would also be an excuse for where he had been.

Lying was easy these days.

The bell for the start of the next period rang right as he slipped into his seat in the choir room. Kurt was on his right, Rachel on his left, on the top row. came in from his office and started talking about the true bonds of friendship or something like that, Blaine didn't really know as he had tuned him out.

"Blaine? Blaine?" A pale hand snapped in front of his face. He turned to face Kurt who looked confused.

"Where _are_ you these days?" He asked, slightly annoyed. Blaine gave him an apologetic look.

"Sorry. Just, really tired, that's all…What's the assignment?" He heard Kurt sigh.

"We have to sing something that describes how we feel about someone in the group, then we'll all guess who it was about. I was thinking I would sing The Fame by Lady Gaga to Rachel…You know, since we're all amped up about NYADA and stuff…" Blaine zoned out once more as Kurt turned the conversation to yet another discussion about New York.

Fuck New York. Fuck NYADA. Fuck Kurt leaving. This was one of the problems. When Kurt was gone, what was he going to do? He couldn't take it anymore. He swung his bag over his shoulder and stalked out of the room without a word to anyone. and Kurt called after him, but he ignored them and got in his car, speeding out of the student parking lot. He didn't take the route he took to go home, though. He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to get out of here.

**I'm pleased with how this turned out. Might be my favorite chapter so far…Only one more part till Kurt finds out Blaine's secret, and I have an idea of how I want it to go.**

**Also, when this is over, I think I'm starting a new story. I have a very specific idea of what I want to do, I'm just not sure if it'll work, so to speak. I'll keep you posted.**

**Xoxo,**

**Frankie**

**P.S I'm hoping this will be finished at some point this week. Nationals Tuesday!**


	5. Part 5

**Hey, guys :D Hope your weekends are going well. I don't want to go back to school tomorrow -.- I just want it to be summer so I can sleep till noon and tan and do nothing and get yelled at by my parents. BUT ANYWAY – I saw the Avengers last night! –fangirls- SO GOOD. Confession: I haven't seen the newest XMen movie yet and I really want to! It's in my Netflix queue. Also, I haven't seen the second season of Sherlock yet and I've been looking for it EVERYWHERE. Does anyone know where I can watch it? One more thing, Saturday Night Live last night brought out the tears. Imma miss you, Wiig :'(**

Part 5

While the word "barbeque" brings to mind small children running around with sticky ice cream covering their arms and faces, middle aged men sipping beers and flipping burgers, and house wives dishing out potato salad and lighting sparkles at the end of the night, this was not what happened at the Anderson's the first weekend of June each year. Instead, it was a night filled with smoking cigars on the patio, and eating sushi, prime rib steak, and cheesecake prepared by a gourmet chef that afternoon. People were dressed in freshly pressed suits and cocktail dresses, smelling of expensive perfumes and car leather. On this muggy night, Blaine had flattened his hair down with gel, pulled on skinny khakis and a blue button down, and taken his place at the bottom of the stairs to collect jackets. Why anyone would wear a jacket in the heat he didn't know, but he couldn't ask his mother without starting an argument. So he stood there, politely greeting guests. As usual, nobody brought their children and he was left to suffer alone.

At exactly midnight, the party started to wind down. Everybody was full from the delicious food, tipsy or flat out wasted, and reeking of smoke. For the past ten minutes, Blaine had been trying to sneak up to his bedroom, but every time he approached the stairs, his mother gave him a task to do.

"Blaine, be a dear and go get Mrs. Rybek's coat."

"Sweetheart, Mr. Bay just asked for a beer."

"Let the dog in but don't let him near the guests."

The poor boy was exhausted, his limbs ached, he could feel a migraine coming on, and all he wanted to do was send Kurt a good night text and then fall asleep. But no, because at that moment, his father called out, his words slurring.

"Come here, boy." Blaine stiffened as he turned around, slowly walking towards the older man. To be honest, his father scared him. Even more than usual if he was drunk. On Mr. Anderson's right and left were his business partners.

"Christian here." He gestured to his left. "Was just telling me about his daughter. Tell him what you told me, Chris." He said with a grin, bumping shoulder with the other man.

"My daughter is such a beautiful, lovely girl. She's only interested in dating boys that are trouble, though. I was thinking if you came by the house sometime, maybe she'd see what she's missing when she's going out with that motorcycle riding douche." Blaine swallowed hard. He knew Christian's daughter. Her name was Tiffany, a bleach blond with a fake tan who went to Crawford and had a reputation of being a slut.

"Sorry, Mr. Rose, but I'm not interested in Tiffany." Blaine's father and Christian both frowned at him.

"Why not, son? This girl is exactly what you need to…" His father trailed off.

"_Edward_!" His mother hissed sharply from across the room, but Edward ignored her.

"To what, dad?" Blaine asked, his face growing warm.

"You know what I'm referring to."

"Oh, you think Tiffany Rose, the biggest slut on this side of Westerville, can straighten me out?" A hush fell over the room. Edward Anderson's jaw twitched, because his son had just dropped a bomb. A giant, flaming, homosexual bomb. When Blaine had come out, one of the first things he had said to his son was "don't you dare tell this to anyone, boy." Christian Rose did a double take, his eyes now bugging out of his head.

"Go. To. Your. Room." Edward growled through clenched teeth. Blaine said nothing, but turned around and walked straight out the front door. He heard running behind him, and his father grabbed his arm when he reached the driveway. Blaine didn't see it coming, but his father's fist collided with his jaw. He slammed into the side of his car, cradling his face. His father didn't say anything, merely turned around and walked back inside.

Once the ground stopped spinning, Blaine got in his car and drove. He drove to the drive through McDonalds just a mile away from Dalton. This late at night, nobody was around. He pulled his car keys out of the ignition and turned them over in his hand, feeling the rough edge. Tonight, however, that wasn't going to be enough.

Blaine wasn't a smoker. He wasn't addicted, that's what he told himself when he had a smoke every now and then. He still however had a lighter stashed in his glove compartment, which he took out now. He stuck the end of the key in the flame and let it heat up a few seconds before pressing it down on his wrist.

The pain was completely unexpected, and he yelped out, but did not remove the metal from his skin. He repeated the act four times before leaned back against the seat and dropping the lighter in the cup holder. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck, running down his spine. After a few minutes, he started to feel better. He wiped his brow with his sleeve, then started the car engine, driving towards the order menu. He had a craving for greasy food. He ordered a big mac, fries, and a large diet Pepsi. With extra ice.


	6. Part 6

** I'm a bucket of emotions today. First off, the House series finale! I won't say anything but…fkdsnfisf I can't believe it's over. That was the first show I ever fell in love with. Second, tonight is Glee's season finale. There better be some cute Klaine! Also, I'm excited to see Santana and her mom. I've been waiting for that all season. Third, end of this story. I put a lot into this—Emotion, personal experience, things like that…I started out not liking what I was writing that much, but in later chapters it grew on me. I hope you all enjoyed this, too. If you ever need to talk, I'm always available. I'll put places you can talk to me at the end of the chapter. **

*****Now it's Wednesday and I've seen the episode and I'm NOT HAPPY*****

**Now it's a week after I wrote that ^^ and I feel terrible for not updating sooner!**

Part 6

The Anderson's and the Hummel-Hudson's couldn't be more different from each other. In the Anderson's house, people didn't talk to each other. Most nights, Blaine cooked himself a box of pasta and ate dinner alone, in front of the TV. Meanwhile in Lima, Burt, Carol, Finn, and Kurt were eating together whenever they were all home. Kurt and Finn shared their feelings with Burt, while Blaine would never dream of having a heart to heart with his father. So, when something appeared to be wrong with Blaine, the first thing Kurt did was go to an adult he trusted, who he knew also cared very much about the boy—Mr. Burt Hummel, his father.

It was a rainy evening, after school, and Kurt had slipped into the shop to see his father. Burt wanted to see how the tire shop was running without him being there all the time, and he was pleased it was doing well.

"Hey, kiddo!" He called over his shoulder as Kurt dropped his bag on the counter. Kurt mumbled something in response, and that's what alerted Burt that something was off. He walked over to his son, sitting across from him by the checkout counter.

"Kurt." He said sternly. "What's going on?" Kurt took a deep breath and glanced around, making sure Finn or Rachel weren't around.

"I'm worried about…Blaine." Burt's brow furrowed. He liked Blaine. A lot, actually. The kid made his son the happiest he had ever seen him, and he had a good head on his shoulders. He was always polite, and it had taken him months for him to stop calling Burt "Sir" or "Mr. Hummel". While he rarely spoke at family dinners' unless spoken to first, Burt assumed that was just because he came from a household where his opinions weren't appreciated. Kurt had filled him in a bit on Mr. Anderson, who was unaccepting of his son.

"Worried, in what way? Did something happen at home? Is he ignoring you? Did he say something to your or Finn? Does he think you cheated again?" Burt asked as Kurt got an annoyed look on his face.

"Dad, this is hard enough to take about as is without you interrogating me. Just…let me talk, okay?" Burt nodded, apologetic.

"I've noticed for a few months now that Blaine just seems…Off. He's unhappy, I can just tell…But I think it's getting worse. I can feel him drifting away from not just me, but everybody. He won't sing duets with Rachel during glee anymore, and he won't come and play Xbox with Sam and Finn…I just feel like something big, something bad is going on and I can't figure out what it is and it's maddening!" Kurt huffed, resting his head in his hands. He didn't realize he was on the verge of tears till he felt the dampness on his cheeks. Burt placed a hand on his son's shoulders.

"I'm gonna give you my advice, buddy. Talk to him. Make him tell you what's wrong. Invite him over here or something and be persistent. If something really is wrong, you have to find out what it is so you can tell me. Then, you and I can help him." Kurt sniffled and looked up at his dad.

"Really? You want me to tell you what it is when I find out."

"Yes. You know I care about that boy like he is my own. I think he knows that, deep down. You love him, I love him, too. He's family, and he's always welcome here."

"Thanks, dad." Kurt mumbled as he leaned forward to hug his father.

Three days later, it was Saturday night. Carol, Burt, Finn, Rachel, and Mr. and Mr. Berry had all gone out for dinner together. Kurt was home alone, and had invited Blaine to come over. He was sitting on the counter waiting for him to arrive, eating a grilled tomato and cheese sandwich. He was starring off into space, thinking about what he would say to Blaine, when there was a light knock on the back door. He jumped off the counter and flat out sprinted to the door, flinging it open, and promptly jumping into Blaine's arms. Blaine was slightly shocked, but held his boyfriend around the waist and led the two of them inside, shutting the door behind them.

"Whoa there, honey." Kurt laughed quietly into Blaine' neck.

"Sorry." He whispered against his boyfriend's skin. "I just missed you, that's all."

"How could you miss me? We see each other every day…" Kurt took a deep breath. Now was his chance.

"Blaine, c'mon, sit down." He gestured towards the couch. "Let's talk."

Blaine took a deep breath and sunk down into the leather. He knew what was coming. Kurt knew his dirty little secret, and he was about to confront him. He, for one, didn't know if or how he could handle it.

Kurt curled up next to Blaine's side, and held his hand.

"Something is different with you, love. You're unhappy, lonely, tired…I can tell even without you saying anything to me. I'm begging you, please, to just tell me what's wrong. Let me help you. That's all I want."

Blaine could have broken down. He could've told Kurt everything, but he didn't. Instead, he pulled the taller boy closer to him, and kissed him passionately on the mouth. Despite the fact Kurt knew Blaine was trying to distract him, he kissed back, and then both boys lost control of themselves. In minutes Kurt was on top of Blaine, giving him hickeys while the shorter boy moaned. He reached for Blaine's cardigan and started tugging it off. Only when a cool breeze tickled his abs did Blaine realize what was about to happen.

"No—Kurt!" He exclaimed, trying to push Kurt away. It was too late, though. Kurt had gotten off Blaine's shirt, revealing more than toned stomach muscles. Up his left forearm and bicep were scars, some obviously old and healed, others fresh. Kurt didn't know what to do, he was in complete shock. He moved his lips but words didn't come out. The world was spinning out of control. Blaine sat there, shirtless, his eyes wide and sad, brimming with tears. It seemed like years, but could only have been ten minutes before the boys started speaking at once. And when they did start speaking, they couldn't stop.

Blaine insisted it wasn't what it looked like. Kurt started to cry, saying he had had no idea. The dark haired boy apologized and the light haired boy stopped him, refusing to hear him say "I'm sorry." They went back and forth for an endless amount of time, until they both couldn't talk anymore and just cried.

They held each other, and just wept.

**Tada!**

**No, it's not over; I'm going to do an epilogue. I didn't want to end it all happy though. Self-harm is dark and I wanted to stay with my tradition of portraying it accurately. So the epilogue will wrap up loose ends for you ^.^ But I honestly hope you like it, it took me a week to write and I felt so guilty for not getting it up sooner.**

**Anyway, places you can contact me:**

**Tumblr url…blaire-anderson**

**Instagram and twitter username…futurefrancesca**

**Figment(if you don't know what this site is, go check it out! It's awesome!)…magenta Francesca**

**Polyvore…fangirl-francesca**


	7. Epilogue

**So here it is y'all.**

**The final installment of Scars & Burns. I became extremely attached and devoted to this story, and I hope you did, too! As always, self-injury is not something to joke about and should always be taken seriously. If you or someone you know is suffering from scratching, cutting, burning, an eating disorder, or anything else, get help. I promise that it's for your and their best interest.**

Epilogue

In 20 years, Blaine Anderson had not picked up a blade. He had not burned or cut himself since high school, and he was proud of himself for overcoming that. He would never have been able to do that without the love and support of Kurt, his father, Finn and his mom, and all his friends at Dalton and McKinley. So when he found out his daughter's best friend was cutting, he completely lost his mind for a few days. He couldn't eat or sleep and spent a few hours taking swings at the punching bag in the basement.

Why was the world such a cruel place? Why did society make this girl feel as if her only choice was to hurt herself? It took a few days, but finally he calmed down.

The next time his daughter's friend was at their house, his own daughter had to run across the street to walk the dog she was pet sitting. He took the opportunity to talk to the girl and to try and help her.

"Hey, Bree." He said cheerfully as he sat down across from her at the kitchen table.

"Hi, Mr. Anderson." She said quietly, looking down at the table. He sighed. There was no beating around the bush with something like this—He had to just come out at say it.

"I want to talk to you about something. Something personal. Eliza told me what you…Do to yourself." Bree's face paled and she looked away. Tears had started falling from her eyes. Shit. He didn't want to make her cry.

"No, no, sweetie don't cry. You're not in trouble or anything. I want to help you." The girl turned to look at Blaine. She tried to make her face angry, but it didn't work.

"I don't need any help!" She tried to get up and leave, but Blaine put a hand on her arm.

"I can't let you leave, knowing what you could do when you get back to your house. And, I'm telling this because maybe it'll convince you to let me help you, I hurt myself too, when I was in high school." Maybe it was something about the honesty of an adult, but the young girl broke. Sobs racked her tiny frame, and Blaine wrapped her in his arms.

"Shh, honey. It's okay. It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

When Kurt got home from work, he found Bree and Eliza cuddling on the couch, watching Legally Blond 2. Nothing about this was out of the ordinary, except for Blaine standing in the doorway, watching them a little too intently to be considered fatherly love. Kurt raised an eyebrow, and made his way through the den to the kitchen to see his husband, pausing only to kiss both girls on the head. Both squealed at the same time.

"Daddy!"

"Mr. Hummel!"

Bree had been Eliza's best friend for nearly 10 years, she was like family. Her parents were divorced, she lived with her father, step mother, and half siblings, and her estranged mother lived down in Arizona. Despite how the Hummel-Anderson's house was her second home, she still called Blaine and Kurt Mr. Hummel and Mr. Anderson. Both of them shrugged off the politeness, some kids were just like that.

"So…What's going on?" Kurt asked Blaine as he dragged the shorter boy into the kitchen, out of ear shot of the girls. That's when he noticed the table was covered in printouts. Articles about teenagers self-harming, what you could do to help, help hotlines, support groups, therapists, and even a pamphlet for an institution. Kurt's heart jumped into his throat.

"Eliza-" He choked out. Blaine's eyes widened and he put an arm around Kurt's waist.

"No, god no! I'm sorry this scared you, but she's alright. A little shaken, but fine." There was a pause while Kurt had a realization.

"Bree…" He mumbled quietly. Blaine nodded.

"I've known for a few weeks. Eliza let it slip one night when she was upset. Today, she was here alone and I talked to her about it. She's…agreed to let me help. I'm going to talk to her father." Blaine sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not going to be easy, but it needs to be done. I can't…let a kid go through that. I just can't." Kurt nodded solemnly. He knew that was excruciatingly hard for Blaine.

"I'm so proud of you. So proud of how far you've come."

And Blaine was proud of himself, too.

Self-harm was a never ending cycle, but he was determined to break it.


End file.
